A leader of one of the most ruthless races of beings. “In the Otherworld,” he elaborates, taking the pen back from me. “The King of the Night?” I repeat dumbly. He studies me for a second, then gives in. The Bargainer rolls onto his side, propping his head up with a hand, a smirk on his face, a wisp of white blond hair falling into his eyes. “A generosity I’m not interested in repeating.” His words are clipped.ĭropping down to the floor next to him, I snatch the pen from his hand.

“You didn’t add a bead for that answer,” I say. You didn’t complain then.” He begins drawing in my mouth. In all likelihood, someday this bracelet of beads will turn into a very real version of Fuck-Marry-Kill. “That answer was two words.” I deserve a better answer than that, considering the price I will eventually have to pay for the favor. “I rule.” He doesn’t even look up when says it. I catch sight of my wrist just as another dull, black bead forms. “What do you do in your free time?” I ask again. Probably stealing candy from babies or something awful like that. What does he do when he’s not stealing secrets or collecting debt? What is this man’s idea of fun? I live for those four hours, but what about him? I’m probably just his equivalent of paid vacation. If I close my eyes, I can pretend that we’re not in my shady dorm room, that I’m not paying the Bargainer off to keep me company, that Des likes me every bit as much as I like him.īut then I remember that I get to hang out with him for no more than four hours of his day. And as I sit there, staring at him, I feel my stomach flutter. I take a seat at my computer chair and watch him work for several seconds. “I’ll stop calling you Des as soon as you stop call me cherub.” “And my name is Desmond-not … Des.” His voice drips with disdain. “Right.” God forbid the Bargainer actually gets a reputation for kindness.

I didn’t know, but I had wondered why no one on my floor had asked about the male voice coming from my room. “They can’t hear us, you know,” Des says, not looking up from his work. Their footsteps pass my door without pause. I hear their footsteps coming towards my room, and a small part of me hopes they’ll knock on my door, even though Desmond is here.

They knock on the door next to mine, inviting Shelly and Trisha to dinner with them. In the hall outside my room, I hear some of my floormates laughing as they run off to dinner.

“Besides ruining the mind of a little siren?” he says.

The bargainer rhapsodic